Past Present Now Then
by dancinginthesunlight
Summary: "'You're not wearing any shoes.' / Another shrug. 'I threw them at a wall.'" Piper visits the Zeus cabin.  Christmas fic, one day late. One-shot.


_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own anything._

_**Warnings: **__Some adult themes. Nothing above a PG-13 movie rating, but just be aware; language/intimacy/alcohol/etc._

_So yeah. Enjoy. Post SoN, with a few minor spoilers but not many, as it's Piper/Jason centric. Switches a little bit between Piper's and Jason's POVs, but it's all third person so it should still make sense._

**Past Present Now Then**

Click. _Ow. _Click. _Ow. _Click. Damn high heels.

Piper tore the offending footwear – silver, strappy, stilettos (damn Apollo, alliteration made everything worse), everything she had tried to be but _wasn't_ – angrily from her throbbing feet. Why had she even bothered dressing up? Only a guy as low as Octavian would ever want to make a pass at her – she pushed the thought away, inwardly cursing the unexpected circumstances that had forced Greeks and Romans together for the winter. And gods knew the only guy she actually cared about _like that _would never be bothered to show up at a holiday party. Probably too busy letting Reyna hang all over him.

She wasn't being fair and she knew it, but she strode angrily into the Aphrodite cabin anyway, wincing slightly as her fresh blisters hit the hardwood floor. She pelted one shoe at the far wall, aiming for nothing in particular or maybe at the cabin itself, and everything it stood for.

Girls who were nothing like her, who could tell the difference between foundation and concealer or balance in three-inch heels or get the right bloody guy to _like_ them or tell off the wrong one.

She threw the second shoe, not caring where it landed, but gaining a little bit of satisfaction at the sound of a heel smacking the floor. And then, silence.

She couldn't bring herself to cry – she was _so _not the type to be reduced to tears over a _guy_. Even if it was a guy like _him_.

Somewhere in the distance she heard the sound of snow being compressed as someone's footsteps landed heavily at uneven increments.

She was not going to look. She was not going to look. She was not going to look.

Damn it.

She knew it was him from the blonde hair – longer than it had been when they had first met, but not by much – but everything else was wrong. That gait was too uneven to be his. His footing to unsteady.

But it _was_ him. She wanted to say that she knew from his jacket, torn a little where Percy's blade had caught it once during practice last week. She wanted to say that she knew from the edge of his tattoo, revealed by the tear.

Really, though, she just _knew_. Her legs acted of their own volition and, bare feet hardly leaving a mark on the thin layer of snow – Olympus forbid camp should ever have a _real _winter – as she bolted across it, blisters feeling only relief at contact with the cool surface.

She slowed as she approached Cabin One. What the hell was she doing? But she lifted her chin and forged onward.

"Hey."

Piper had meant to sound cool, but the word came out breathily, softly.

Tenderly.

He turned to face her, silent, his reflection glinting off the gold pillars that ringed the cabin.

"I thought you were going to come to the party," she tried. _And you never showed. And I spent the whole time looking like a complete idiot because I waited for you. And then I ran away from Octavian. And I still look like a complete idiot._

"It's Christmas Eve," she said, stepping closer, too close maybe, because when he muttered "Screw Christmas" in response, she smelled it on his breath.

Eyes wide, she stared at him. "Have you been drinking?"

She never would have believed it of him. He was always so damn perfect, so flawlessly composed and brave and chivalrous, that any small amount of rebellion seemed completely out of character.

"Maybe." Her eyes bore into his. He exhaled heavily, another wave of alcohol assaulting her senses. "Two shots. Maybe three." His words weren't slurred, exactly, but they were thick and so, so, wrong, carried as they were by his ordinarily clear voice.

"Are you drunk?" Because anyone who had played the rebel as much as she had knew there was a difference.

"I don't know, Piper." He moved to step towards the cot he slept on, hidden in its little niche, but he stumbled and she reached out instinctively to catch him.

His weight landed on her, heavier than she remembered it, and she gently guided him toward the bed, sitting down beside him.

"You can talk to me, you know. Tell me what's up."

"What's up is I can't do anything right."

His openness was startling, but she responded automatically. "What are you talking about? You're one of the most perfect people I know."

She wanted to take the words back almost as soon as they left her mouth, but he latched onto them. "Perfect? I'm not even good at getting drunk. Only two shots and all I feel is nauseous and still half-sober."

She didn't answer immediately, so he filled the silence with his words. "Everyone expects me to be this great leader. To pretend I'm not scared shitless about whatever's coming and to know what to do all the time. And maybe sometimes I just can't do it anymore. Maybe I just want to be a normal sixteen-year-old guy for once in my life."

"You know, before I came to camp I used to wish I was normal. That my dad wasn't famous. That I didn't steal things."

"What are you trying to say?"

"That maybe normal is relative."

"Easy for you to say," he said. "You don't have everyone all up in your face comparing you to Percy Jackson, thinking you can just go on celebrating Christmas when the world is falling to fucking pieces around you."

She watched as his blue eyes turned glassy, saw him wipe them with his sleeve.

"I've never even celebrated Christmas before."

"Really?" she couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice.

"Never had a family to celebrate with." Jason tried to keep his voice steady, but something in him – maybe the alcohol, maybe not – wouldn't let it happen.

"I'm sorry."

He paused. "You know, you're the first person who's said that to me."

She shrugged. "You do know that alcohol isn't going to solve any problems, right?"

"I was just trying to forget for a while." _And it didn't work_. He took a moment to look at her, really look at her. "You're not wearing any shoes."

Another shrug. "I threw them at a wall."

"What?"

"Guys can be idiots sometimes." She left it at that, and he was sure that there was some double meaning hidden in there somewhere, but his head hurt too much to even try to think it through and he found himself agreeing with her anyway.

His head was swimming from the alcohol, his eyes stinging from tears, but he saw her dark hair, clipped back away from her face in a way that made it impossible not to want to run a hand through it. Which didn't make any sense.

He shouldn't be feeling anything for her right now, when he was so caught up in himself, in his failings, in everything else. He shouldn't be feeling anything for anyone but himself.

But that didn't explain why her eyes – what the hell color were they, anyway? – were so piercing, her body so close and so warm and so _feminine_, her lips…

Damn. Some sober part of the back of his brain reminded him that she was _Piper_, and she was his friend, and even though she might have once mistaken him for her boyfriend she obviously didn't want him as anything more than a friend now, especially now that she saw him on the verge of tears (_weak_, some inner voice chided him) and incapable of walking in a straight line.

He was full on staring at her now, but she didn't notice, her eyes cast downward at the floor. "Octavian tried to touch me."

Jason processed the words slowly. No. Not possible. Some part of him that he didn't know existed wanted to go and beat the damn kid to a pulp.

"Are you okay?"

"I will be. I went after him with Katoptris. He came out of it worse off than I did." She hesitated. "I don't know why I told you that. I'm sorry."

"No," he insisted. "You don't have to put up with him doing something like that. If it ever happens again, tell me. I'll deal with him."

"Thanks." Her tone was unsure, but she smiled a little. Then her expression turned back to one of concern. "Do you need anything? Let me get you water."

She stood and disappeared for a few minutes, returning with a plastic cup full of deliciously cool water.

"Thanks." The water was helped clear his head a little.

Time passed, silently, but he wasn't counting minutes and he guessed that she wasn't either.

When Piper finally met his eyes, her own widened with surprise at how strongly his blazed. She felt them shift over her hair and then back to her eyes, full of confidence, like the Jason she knew, but a little bit of sadness too. What did he see when he looked at her?

And then his eyes slipped to her lips, and she felt him inhale without really hearing it, because all she could concentrate on were his eyes and they were on her mouth and they were full of some new emotion that she couldn't name because it was so foreign.

Desire.

And she felt powerful, for the first time in ages. She knew, somehow, with complete certainty, that she didn't need to Charmspeak to make him lean in closer, watch her more intently.

And she was terrified, wondering if it was possible to feel this lightheaded without touching even a drop of alcohol.

Still, she leaned in, watching, almost transfixed, as he mirrored her movement, sliding closer to her, tilting his head, all the while keeping his gaze focused on her mouth.

Inches away from him, his scent – outdoors and lightning and vanilla and only a little bit of alcohol – enveloping her, his eyes so close she could see the grey undertones behind the blue, Piper paused.

"Why?" she whispered the word, unsure if he even heard her, but he answered her anyway, his eyes meeting hers, just for a second.

"Because you're beautiful, and you're brave, and… and you're you."

His eyes do the pleading, asking for permission, and she nods her head once before he closes the space between them, pressing his lips against hers once, lightly, chastely.

It's over all too soon, but still she finds herself gasping for breath as if she had just run a marathon, and for some crazy reason wanting _more_. She is Aphrodite's child, after all, she reasons, if it can even be called reasoning, given her present lack of coherent thought.

But she gives in to this _need_, reaching for Jason's shoulders and drawing him closer, closer, until somehow his hand is in her hair and the clip that held it up is clattering across the floor and her hair is tumbling down and his lips crash against hers, furious and passionate and trying to pack nearly a year's worth of longing into one moment, every time he thought she looked brave or beautiful colliding in one kiss.

And then she pulls his jacket off of him, tossing it to the ground, and the rush of cool, winter air against his skin does nothing to stop the heat burning through his veins. He feels sparks of electricity crackling in his hair but he doesn't care, especially not when her legs have somehow wrapped around his waist and she's doing strange things to his anatomy and she's peeling his shirt off, and then her hands are all over his back, his chest, his abs.

His fingers find the zipper of her dress, but somehow something in his mind connects and he stops before he takes the next step, but she apparently doesn't care because she guides his hands back and then the dress is gone and he is so, so aware of every inch of her skin, all his.

_iii. after_

She bolts awake and is instantly aware of the cold air pressing against bare legs, stomach, shoulders. Hazy memories of last night flit through her head, and a glance to her left confirms that she is indeed still in the Zeus cabin, on a cot bed that isn't hers.

"Holy…" she can't even finish the thought, wondering just how far she let herself go, but she is definitely wearing both a bra and underwear, and she breathes a sigh of relief and gives a silent prayer to whatever goddess oversaw stupid, hormonal decisions.

A glance at the floor of the cabin reveals her dress from the night before, now wrinkled and dirty, and Jason's shirt, and Jason himself, sitting and staring at nothing in particular.

"Jason," she breathes, but she knows that he hears her, because he turns to face her and then glances quickly away again, cheeks reddening slightly, and she thinks that she should probably put on some clothes but her dress is ruined, so she settles for pulling the sheets up over herself.

"I'm sorry," he says, still refusing to look at her. "Last night. I shouldn't have…"

"No," she whispers. "It was…" she takes a deep breath. "It was right."

He's silent for a moment, absorbing that, and then he smiles slightly, but he's still facing away from her so she can't see.

"Um," her voice is hesitant, "Do you have, like, clothes that I can borrow?" He hears her laugh nervously, quietly, probably at the awkwardness of the statement, so he finds a T-shirt and sweatpants and passes them to her, doing everything in his power not to look at her because Aphrodite knows what stupid thing he'll do if he sees her.

"The bathroom's over there, if you want to shower." Then he strides out of the cabin because half of him wants to grab her and kiss her again.

That's a lie. All of him wants it.

The bathroom is plain, simple, with none of the clutter she's so used to from the Aphrodite cabin. Which makes sense, she muses, since he's a guy and wouldn't own a flat-iron or thirty tubes of lip gloss anyway. There's just a few simple guy things scattered around the sink: deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss (as if she didn't already know he was perfect), razor, shaving cream, comb.

Realizing that she doesn't have a toothbrush with her, she squeezes some of his onto her finger and forces the bitter taste of sleep out of her mouth. Then she starts the water in the shower and uses her fingers to comb the tangles out of her hair. A quick hunt through the cabinet along the wall reveals shampoo that is at least not male-brand, so, presuming it to be Thalia's, she takes it and steps into the water.

_iv. now_

"Hey."

Jason makes the mistake of looking up at her. Even in his clothes – several sizes too big for her; she has to pull the sweatpants up to keep from tripping over the ends – with no makeup and hair slightly frizzy from towel-drying it, she's stunning.

"Hi."

"Thank you," she says, sitting beside him on the steps outside the cabin.

"Yeah. No problem."

"No," she insists. "I mean it. Thank you. For everything."

She meets his eyes, wills him to understand.

But he has to say it, so he does. "I'm sorry about last night." She opens her mouth to respond, but he doesn't let her. "I was drinking, and I know that's not an excuse, but—"

"No." Her voice is firm, but she quickly loses the controlled tone to near hysteria. "I like you, Jason. As more than a friend, since apparently that wasn't clear last night."

"But—"

"I would have stopped you if I was uncomfortable."

When she meets his eyes, they are full of anguish. "Piper…"

"I know you're going through a lot of stress right now. I get that. But I'm here for you. Always will be." She kisses him on the cheek, softly, then draws back. It takes everything in her to stand up and walk away.

_v. then_

"Piper. Wait."

She pauses. He stands up, taking a few steps toward her. She's still barefoot, he notices. His palms are sweaty and there are butterflies in his stomach and it's crazy because he's never felt like this about a girl before. Funny how he could go from wishing he was a normal sixteen-year-old to acting like a hormonal wreck in the face of the coming war.

There were more important things to be focusing on: battle plans, and training, and somehow merging the Greeks and Romans into a unified army. The praetor of Camp Jupiter should not be focusing on a girl.

But somehow he can't bring himself to care.

"They're letting us go to the city for New Year's," he says, the words coming out a little rushed. "Do you want to, um…" She's watching him expectantly, her expression unreadable. "Do you want to maybe see a movie? With me?"

A smile spreads across her face. "Are you asking me out?"

"I'm trying."

"Then yes. Definitely yes."

His strong arms surround her, lift her off her (bare) feet so that his mouth can brush against hers.

She smiles against his lips. "Merry Christmas, Jason Grace."

_This was a one-shot that got a little out of hand. So, let me know what you think, please, and happy holidays x_


End file.
